ananda
sip of coffee peach and blue the sky and everything is every each and
which and shade of sun define betweenness as a cold wind breezy toasty
blows upon and over under through it all and jazz is playing playing too
and wafting through the proofs of theorems playing building self-define
recursive algorithmic computation theory real and hard and fast of thought
of intuition constructs mental float and nebulously come to find disorder
pass it prove it disassemble cappuccino stout and mondays tuesdays wait
and catch unwary giddy toasty paperboys and girls and spin if dark with
memory in giga- googol-bytes the universal through the sky and through the
window pane and suffer happily so long as this is proven make it so and
lovely number one disorder turns to tangible by process seem so random
will you predilection wants it pretty testing ground reality should be as
slick and logical as this the book of lust is open to the day and writ in
lines of liquid hazy days of winter mourning sun is setting but platonic
realms and sets of sets will be forever count the days are rolling over
under all of this ananda coursing through the worldlines singing music of
the spheres is ringing and a piece of toast.
J. Horne